


Mother's Day (a Phoenix Rising tale)

by badcircuit



Category: The Town (2010)
Genre: Feels, Gen, Mild Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-31
Updated: 2013-03-31
Packaged: 2017-12-07 02:48:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/743307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badcircuit/pseuds/badcircuit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>THIS IS NOT A STAND-ALONE FIC.  If you haven’t read PR you’ll be lost.  I got inspired by the spring theme of a Jem fic contest on Tumblr.  I apologize in advance for any feels caused.  Not beta’d so all mistakes are mine.</p><p>Sara is the star of this one, which is why I'm not adding it to Phoenix Rising proper.  Once again Jem’s not mine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mother's Day (a Phoenix Rising tale)

_Boston Common is that electric green of early spring that I love so much.  Everything is coming back to life after another drab, depressingly dead winter, the buds and blossoms and leaves so tender and new._

_As I walk along the trail, I hear the uninhibited laughter of a child, so like Jamie’s.  The shrieks of joy, the bubbling giggles, and the uncontrollable, breathless chuckles that are so innocent they break your heart and make you smile to hear them._

_The laughter gets closer and when I look to my left to search it out, I see something at the top of a small hill.  As it comes closer, the laughter gets louder, and soon enough I realize that the thing actually is a child of indeterminate sex, probably about Jamie’s age.  It’s rolling down the hill on its side, the way I used to do so long ago, the way most kids do.  I’d roll, sometimes alone, sometimes racing others, and end up at the bottom of the hill, covered in grass, dizzy as hell and laughing my ass off when I got up to stumble around like a drunk.  Other times, I’d lie there staring up at the swirling sky, or I’d close my eyes for that feeling of being tipped off the earth into nothing._

_This kid is no different and I stop to watch it get up and weave around, only to collapse in a fit of giggles on the ground.  I don’t know what possesses me to wander closer, maybe the fact that this kid is alone, no parent in sight.  There’s no one around anywhere, which is strange._

_When I’m a few feet away, it sits up and looks right at me then gets up and skips over.  It’s a little girl and she’s like day to Jamie’s night:  wavy, sandy hair, greenish blue eyes and creamy, freckled skin to his wild, chocolaty curls, nearly black eyes and golden skin.  Still, there’s something about her that’s familiar and similar to Jamie, like they could be cousins._

_“Where’re your parents, sweetie?” I ask, looking around.  “You really shouldn’t be out here by yourself.”_

_Instead of answering, she smiles an adorable smile full of missing teeth and points to the top of the hill.  It’s hard to see because the sun is blazing just over the horizon.  I shield my eyes to make out a lone figure standing there.  It doesn’t wave or move towards us but it’s watching with what feels to me like intense interest._

_The little girl takes my hand and leads me up the hill.  We walk for what seems like a long time but never manage to get any closer to the person at the top.  The sun moves higher in the sky, enough for me to see who it is._

_Of course, it’s Jem._

_My little guide deserts me for him, closing the distance between him and me in no time, even though he still seems to be so far away.  She clings to his leg, staring down at me with eyes that I now realize are just like his.  I start walking again but don’t succeed in getting any closer._

_Fuck this._

_“I’m going home,” I say, looking around to find that I’m in the same spot I was in before we began to walk._

_“Cute, ain’t she?  And smart too, just like her ma.” Jem says, touching her hair like he’d touched Jamie’s the last time I saw him, right here in this same park.  No pain or betrayal on his face this time though.  Just vintage smug Jem and it makes me stupidly happy to see it again._

_“Is she yours?” I ask.  Dumb question because anyone with eyes can see the resemblance._

_“What do you think, College?” he asks, smirking.  Hah, I’d asked him that same question that day when he wanted to know about Jamie’s name._

_When I look at her again, she’s fading.  They’re both fading and I can’t get up that hill.  I don’t want them to go yet but there’s nothing I can do to stop them.  Strangely, I’m not torn up about it.  I don’t know about the little girl but I know I’ll see Jem again.  Once they’re gone, I turn and continue my walk.  The birds are singing and the air smells like…like…_

“Pancakes, Mommy!” Jamie yells, flying into your bedroom and flinging himself onto the bed, startling you awake.

Michael’s right behind him, balancing the breakfast in bed tray, loaded with a plate piled high with pancakes and bacon, a bowl of strawberries, coffee, orange juice and a sprig of lilacs in a little mason jar.  “I asked you to wake Mommy up quietly, Jamie.”

Jamie pops his head out from under the comforter, looking crushed.  “Sorry, Mommy.” 

“It’s ok, little man,” you say, tousling his hair and snuggling him close.  He gurgles happily and the dream comes back to you in a rush…that little girl studying you with Jem’s eyes.  Instead of upsetting you like some of your Jem dreams do, this one is comforting somehow.

Michael sets the tray down on the dresser and comes over to kiss you on the forehead.  “Forgot a couple of things.  Be right back.”  He brushes your hair out of your eyes and cradles your face in his big hand, smoothing your eyebrow with his thumb.  “You ok?”

“Yeah, sure.  Crazy dreams again, that’s all.”  He presses his lips together, furrowing his brow.   “Crazy dreams” is code for Jem dreams.  “I’m fine.  Go on.”  Truthfully, you are feeling a little weird all of a sudden.

You burrow under the bedclothes with Jamie, trying to still his wriggling, giggling little body, thinking, always thinking too damn much.  You’d had a lot of fantasies about Jem, too many dreams, but somehow kids had never been a part of them.  Odd that you’d never imagined marriage or babies.  Somehow, those things didn’t fit with him and you.

“Break it up, you two.  Time for Mommy’s breakfast,” Michael announces.  He pulls the covers back and lays a card and a folded piece of paper on your chest.  He’s got a small pitcher of something in his other hand—syrup.  The faint scent of whiskey hits your nose like a fist. 

You scramble out of bed to run for the bathroom so fast you nearly knock it all over Michael.  He watches you go, looking stricken.  Poor Jamie looks like he’s going to cry.  You shut the door on them, barely making it to the toilet in time. 

Rinsing your mouth out, you study yourself in the mirror.  _Jem and that little girl.  Crazy, so fucking crazy_.  Smiling, you reach for the open pink box in the medicine cabinet, pee in the remaining little cup and place the last stick carefully inside.  You wash your hands and brush your teeth, slowly counting to sixty three times.  You remove the stick, staring at the little result window longer than necessary.  Grinning, you wipe away the happy tears that have spilled down your face.   

“Sara, you ok in there?” Michael says against the door.  He sounds a little panicked. 

You open the door and he’s standing there, arms braced against the door frame, looking like he was just about to break it down.  You kiss him on the cheek, slip the little stick into his hand then go over to collect the card and paper from the floor.  Jamie scurries to the edge of the bed and wraps his arms around you, sniffling.  “Sorry little man,” you say, picking him up, watching Michael over his curly head.  “Mommy’s tummy feels funny.”

“Really?” Michael asks, shaking the stick at you, his face lighting up like the sun.  Sweet Michael.

“Yeah, no Jameson syrup for me for a while.  In fact, it might be time to retire it.”

You all climb back into bed, breakfast forgotten for the moment in the excitement.  You read Michael’s card, tearing up at the perfect handwritten message on the blank inside.  Kissing him again, you share a silent, secret moment.  God, you love him so much.

“Now Jamie’s card,” you say, opening the folded piece of paper with a flourish. 

 _Happy Mother’s Day!_ in Jamie’s scrawl takes up most of the page.  There’s a house surrounded by trees, flowers, birds, butterflies, and fluffy clouds in the sky.  Standing next to the house is a family of stick people, a tall one with black hair, one a little shorter with brown hair, and two smaller ones, one with brown looping curls and the other with long yellow scribble hair. 

“Who’s that?” you ask, pointing to the mystery person.

“That’s the sister I want,” Jamie shouts, bouncing up and down.  “When do I get a sister?  When when when?”

You share a conspiratorial glance with Michael.  Touching your stomach, you think of that little Jem-eyed girl. 

“Soon.”   


End file.
